Green Arrow on: Befriending the Mentally Unstable
by Pisces
Summary: Oliver Queen unwittingly takes the first steps to befriending the Question. Here's hoping his sanity can survive the trip.
1. Hazardous to your Health

**_Hazardous to your Health_**

_Summary: Ollie unwittingly takes the first steps to befriending the Question. Here's hoping his sanity can survive the trip.  
__Rating: T  
__Disclaimer: copyright__, DC  
__Notes: I recently got to rewatch some episodes of JLU, and remembered just how much I loved Question. Anywho, I was watching Double Date, and the fight between Question and Green Arrow always bugged me a bit cause comic!Q was this badass kungfu master, and cartoon!Q lost pathetically to Arrow, who was, according to Black Canary, 'not a fighter'. So I thought about it, and changed things up just a bit. Sorry Ollie, Viccy did his hero-ing in Hub City, and they don't play fair there.  
__More Notes: I may have inadvertently stole the phrase 's__elf righteous Robin Hood' from Lady Jaye1's story 'Another Typical Night'. This was not done on purpose, and I'm sorry if this offends Lady Jaye in some way._

The Question was the League's data guy. Oliver Queen knew this, and understood that the faceless man's membership wasn't based upon his fighting skills. The Question was the man Leaguers went to get information, no matter how small or obscure, and then exactly what to do with that information to its maximum efficiency. Oliver knew this, and had actually used Question's unique resources on a few occasions in the past. But after the incident with Huntress and Mandragora, a nagging feeling had taken root in the back of Green Arrow's mind, and it took him a full week before he figured out exactly what that feeling was.

Concern. Concern for the Question.

Oliver wouldn't say he was _bad_ at hand-to-hand combat. In fact, he would say he was pretty damn good. But he definitely wouldn't place himself in the top ten brawlers of the Justice League. His talents ran more towards the strategical use and pinpoint accuracy of his many different types of arrows. And he had beaten Question. One on one, in hand-to-hand, without really trying. And that was worrying. Worrying that one day a fellow Leaguer might be on a potentially dangerous mission without sufficient means to protect himself.

And so that was how Oliver found himself standing on a cushioned mat in the Watchtower's large and well equipped gym, across from the Question himself. Oliver was decked out in his typical workout garb – tank top and comfortable blue sweats, with his hands carefully wrapped and feet bare. Question was... well, Question's thin frame was slouched low in his ever present large blue trenchcoat, fedora still firmly on his head and hands still stuffed into deep pockets.

When Oliver had commented on his clothing choice and asked whether or not he would be more comfortable in something a little less... layered, Question had treated the blond to a blank stare and a simple "Fine like this." in a tone of voice that suggested _Oliver_ was the one with a reputation of mental instability and Question was simply humoring the potential madman at his side. Oliver had given up trying after that.

Oliver stretched slightly, hopping from one foot to the other as he loosened his muscles, before squaring his shoulders and facing Question directly. "Alright Question, I'm going to come at you. Nothing too complicated, and I want you to defend yourself as best you can. Let's see what we have to work with."

Oliver hesitated, waiting for an indication of readiness from his sparring partner, and received only a barely audible 'huhm' in response. Knowing this wasn't going to end well if Question wasn't going to bother putting forth the effort, Oliver sighed softly, but went on the offensive without further ado. The blond swiftly crossed the few feet gap that separated him from the suited, faceless man, and threw a series of simple and fairly straightforward punches.

Question dodged left, right, not bothering to even remove his hands from his pockets, and kneed Oliver directly in the groin.

When both coherent thought and the ability to breath returned, Oliver found his face grinding into the sparring mat, shoulder joint screaming from an arm lock, and little finger being pushed just shy of actually breaking. Oliver gasped once, before wheezing out a semi-frantic, "Give!"

Almost instantly, all pressure was released. Oliver curled up on his side, wanting to cough but fearing any biological backlash if he did, and loosely hugged his arms close to his body. A watery, green eyed glared was thrown in Question's direction as the faceless man carefully crouched down near Oliver's head. If Oliver was expecting some gloating, then he was disappointed. Question remained silent, and extended a hand up when Oliver's breathe evened out.

With Oliver back up on now-steady feet, they both returned to their respective sides of the mat. The blond archer was now eying Question's deceptively slouched form with newfound wariness. "Okay. Let's try that again."

Oliver found little of the slightly clumsy fighter he had fought back in the front yard of Mandragora's safehouse. Question fought _dirty_, and just on the wrong side of vicious. All moves were done with the intent of damage, and subduing a little bit more permanently then Oliver felt comfortable with. Oliver was still stronger then his smaller sparring partner, and his form was noticeably better and more knowledgeable, but these advantages were certainly being pushed to keep him ahead of the strangely silent whirling trenchcoated bundle of potential pain.

Oliver was willing to put up with the split lip and the bloodied nose, the almost crushed kneecap and the almost sprained wrist, but had to draw the line when Question reached into a nearby weight rack and chucked a ten pound weight directly at his head.

"Hey! Wait just a- Woah!" Oliver ducked as another weight sailed by his head. "Time out!"

Question paused in mid throw, letting the third weight clatter to the floor, breathing heavily.

"Are you _crazy?"_ Oliver remained poised at the ready despite the call for a 'time out'. "I'm pretty sure there's a law written down somewhere that says no throwing bludgeoning objects at your opponent's head during a sparring match!"

Question inhaled deeply through what sounded like his nose. "Wouldn't know. Never sparred before."

Oliver hesitated, dropping out of his fight or flight stance in his confusion. "What? Then how did you, I mean- Where'd you learn how to fight if you've never _sparred_ before?"

Wry amusement colored Question's soft voice. "Trial and error."

Oliver tried to think of what exactly that was suppose to mean, and didn't like any of the answers his brain was taking him to. "Okay. Just- okay. I think we're done here."

The tension drained between them as Oliver took a step towards the middle of the mat, Question meeting him about halfway. The stiffness left the faceless man's shoulders, returning back to the familiar slouch that Oliver was use to, his suit even more rumpled then its usual state of disarray.

Oliver took a swipe at the blood staining his pale goatee, getting rid of the annoying tickle as the thick liquid slowly trickled down through the short strands of hair. He glanced down at the blood now covering his fingertips, remembering the rather savage right hook that had caused him to bleed in the first place. The archer then glanced at the Question, who had removed one of his gloves (The first bit of actual skin Oliver had ever seen of the other man, absently noting the pale coloring and thin fingers.) and was inspecting the damage done to his knuckles.

"You know how to fight." The tone was accusing and meant to be. "Why didn't you do... this," A wave towards Oliver's slightly beaten face indicated what 'this' was. "...when you fought me at Mandragora's?"

Question shrugged. "Didn't want you or Canary out of the picture. Might have needed you if I had underestimated Huntress' desire to ultimately kill Mandragora."

Oliver grunted, grimace both parts irritation and amusement. "Then why did you take me up on my offer for lessons?"

Question stilled abruptly, shoulders stiffening as if he had remembered something unpleasant. "_Condescending."_ Question growled, and it was the first time Oliver had ever heard actual anger from the faceless man.

"I don't-"

"_Condescending. _Didn't ask, just assumed. _Pity._" The last word was a near snarl, and Oliver almost physically flinched at the sheer annoyance conveyed. "Just because I may be paranoid doesn't mean I'm stupid. Don't need your pity, Green Arrow."

Oliver opened his mouth to protest, that there _hadn't_ been any pity involved, that he didn't think less of the faceless detective simply because of the rumors and his strange habits and that he wasn't like the others, that he didn't think he was any better then him simply because he could actually fit into normal society without the strange looks...

Oliver opened his mouth, but nothing came out, because he thought back to when he had approached Question with his offer, in the middle of a crowded hallway in the middle of the busiest part of the day and he _hadn't_ asked, he had assumed. Assumed that anything he was offering Question would surely accept, because _he_ was Oliver Queen and he was sane and didn't believe in things like Girl Scouts and crop circles, and the Question... was the Question.

There had been pity. The intent had been pure, but... there had been pity.

And the long empty silence easily conveyed all of that.

Question nodded sharply, tugging his glove back on with rough, jerky motions.

"Wait, no, Question- I just wanted to help."

"Don't need _help_. I like you, Oliver Jonas Queen, with your left-wing socialist tendencies and your rather humorous and naïve crusade to protect the 'little guy'. But I. Don't. Need. Help."

"Question!" Oliver reached out and grabbed a hold of the other man's arm as he turned to leave, holding steady even as Question jerked back as if burned. "No. You're right. No, you _don't_ need help. I'm sorry if I insulted you by dealing with you in anything less then a respectful manner. I shouldn't have- I shouldn't- Look, I was just doing what I thought I could to help keep a fellow Leaguer safe! Is that so wrong?"

There was silence for an unbearable five seconds. "...Robin Hood."

"What?" Oliver was still wary, but could feel the tense muscles underneath his hand loosening.

"Self righteous Robin Hood." A shake of the faceless head. "Can't be helped."

Oliver furrowed his brow. "Did you just insult me and forgive me at the same time?"

A blank stare was all he got in return.

"...Riiight." Oliver took a step back while simultaneously releasing his hold of Question's arm, strangely pleased when Question didn't immediately make a break for the exit. "Look, Question..."

"It's fine. We're fine."

"If..." A sigh. "Alright. That easy, huh? Maybe we can, I don't know, spar again sometime? Only without you trying to give me a concussion. You're a hard little bastard to get a hold of, and I admit it was good practice."

"Perhaps." Question took a step backwards, before turning and heading for the exit without a word of goodbye. Oliver watched on, bemused, but before the Question could disappear complete through the door, he paused, cocking his head back towards the stationary blond. "You're a good man, Oliver Queen, even if you refuse to step out of the shell provided by the common man's ignorance and see the danger of fluoridated toothpaste." And then he was gone in one final sweep of trenchcoat tail.

"...What's wrong with fluorinated toothpaste?" Oliver asked the now empty air, feeling confused, and wondering if maybe this was a common side effect of prolonged exposer to the strange experience known as the Question.


	2. Surprise Visit

_**Surprise Visit**_

_Rating: T  
__Disclaimer: __copywrite__, DC  
__Notes: Isn't Q just the cutest lil stalker ever? On a side note, I don't actually know Ollie's grandmother's maiden name, I just made one up. And by the way, thanks for the pleasant reviews. I have quite a bit of fondness for Q, and am glad to know that others do as well. He deserves all the love he can get._

Oliver Queen's hand was barely hovering over the keypad when his door's motion sensor triggered, opening up the brightly lit interior of his personal quarters on the Watchtower. Oliver hesitated for a moment before slowly retracting his hand, fingers curling into loose fists at his side as he took just enough steps to bring him into the room and allow the door to slide shut behind him. His expression warred between equal parts confusion, relief and irritation, before finally settling firmly upon irritation.

His room _should_ have been safely locked and secured, the lights _should_ have been turned off, and perhaps most importantly, the Question _shouldn't_ have been sitting casually at the Green Arrow's computer desk as if he had every right to be there.

"How did you get in here?"

Question tilted his head minutely towards Green Arrow's direction, but remained hunched over whatever he was fiddling with on a cleared section of tabletop. "Grandmother's maiden name. 72967539."

"That's-"

"-too simple. Should consider changing to something more secure in the near future."

Oliver snapped his mouth shut, struggling to overcome the swell of unreality this conversation was threatening to drown him in. "Well, the computer told me it had a security rating of seven."

"Huhm. Will have to investigate password policies later."

"That's great and all, but- is that my shoe?" Oliver leaped forward, snatching the footwear out of a noticeably startled Question's hands. It was a rather plain white tennis shoe, wholly unremarkable except for its distinct lack of shoestring. "What did you do with my shoestring? Question?"

The faceless man laid a matching white shoelace on the table before him, absently tapping the capped end with a gloved finger. Oliver followed the movement with his eyes, resisting the urge to grab up the small, ropey object. "Aglets - the plastic tips at end of shoelaces. Their true purpose is sinister, and must be removed."

This was said as mater-of-factly as 'the sky in blue', 'two plus two is four' or 'girl scout cookies cause cancer'.

"So, what? You break into my quarters just to cut off the ends of my shoestrings?"

"No." Question sounded genuinely insulted. Turning back to the table, he picked up a straight blade box cutter Oliver hadn't previously noticed, and began to meticulously cut a thin line along one of the small plastic aglets on the white shoelace. "Removing, not defacing property."

"Oh, how terribly _ignorant_ of me." Oliver drawled, sarcasm dripping thick. "You're _removing_ the ends of my shoestrings. And when exactly were you going to tell me all about this?"

"Wasn't."

The tennis shoe warped under Oliver's suddenly clenching fist.

"Roster schedule had you listed as out on mission for an approximate two hours, which should have been more then enough time for me to finish." The slit was complete. Question set aside the box cutter, and started to carefully peal back the glued plastic cover from the cloth weave. "But, it seems that I have... underestimated the amount of laced footwear within your possession."

Oliver shot a quick glance over at his opened closet, taking note of the messy pile of shoes on the floor and the general chaos of the rest of the items within it, then back at the Question seated in _his_ swivel chair in front of _his_ computer desk. "Question... how many of my shoes have you done this to?"

"This is the last one."

"You-!"

Question reached into one of the many pockets within his trenchcoat, pulling out a tiny rubber band, and looping it tightly around the now aglet-free end of the shoelace. He dropped the plastic leftovers in an opposite pocket, before starting the same treatment on the aglet still left.

"Question, you can't... People just don't break into other people's places, destroy their property, and then act like it's okay!"

Question paused, then turned his blank face to stare directly at Oliver. "Aglets are a danger and must be removed for safety, Green Arrow."

Something in Question's tone of voice stopped the further complaints on the tip of Oliver's tongue. Maybe it was the sincerity, or the quiet conviction, but it slowly began to dawn on Oliver that the man sitting in front of him believed the words he was saying, _utterly._

"You actually believe aglets are dangerous." Oliver heard himself say, faintly.

Question nodded, once, then turned back to the half-finished alget removal. "And you would too, if you bothered to ask the right questions."

_You could have at least asked first_, was what Oliver wanted to say, but Oliver knew, as most likely the Question knew, that would have been a fruitless endeavor. Oliver would have scoffed at any warning about a 'sinister aglet threat', just as his mind was still scoffing at the 'sinister aglet threat', and nothing would have come from it. While Question truly believed aglets were somehow dangerous, and was following the only logical course of action available within his mind to remove that danger from Oliver's life.

_...to help keep a fellow Leaguer safe! Is that so wrong? _Oliver's own words from a few weeks past sounded in his head, and Oliver thought back, firmly, _no, it isn't._

And so Oliver handed over the shoe at Question's request without protest, and watched as the Question relaced his shoe with swift, practiced motions. He agreed to change his password at Question's continual urging and said goodbye without the animosity one might expect towards someone who had rummaged through his personal affects without any signs of remorse. And when Question was gone, Oliver stared at the haphazard pile of shoes with their rubber banded shoelaces, and thought about how Question was quite possibly not sane.

He wasn't quite sure how that was suppose to make him feel.


	3. I Don't Understand Women Sometimes

_**I Don't Understand Women Sometimes**_

_Rating: T  
__Disclaimer: __copywrite__, DC  
Notes: I had considered just tacking this one to the beginning of the next chapter, but that doesn't quite go with how I write. I like to write short scenes trying to convey a thought or emotion, so I decided to post these separate, and make people turn the page. And if anyone happens to be wondering at the end of this for some odd reason - I actually like Dinah. Her and Helena are quite humorous together. And yes, there is a reason why she's acting this way._

"He did _what_?"

"Removed the aglets from all my shoestrings."

Dinah Lance a.k.a. Black Canary stared across a Watchtower cafeteria tabletop at Green Arrow casually popping a fry into his mouth. "No, Ollie. Let's back up to the part where he _broke into your room._"

"Come on, Dinah. It's just Question. I'm sure he breaks into everyone's quarters to sift through their trash or make sure they're not terrorists or something."

"That doesn't exactly help out his case much, Ollie." Dinah crossed her arms and settled back into her chair, tone dry with an undercurrent of irritation. "He could have done _anything_ while in your quarters."

"He was just removing my aglets, Dinah."

"What, exactly, is an 'aglet' and why was he removing them?"

"Uh..." Oliver scratched at the side of his head, disturbing his green cap and leaving it at a slightly crooked angle. "Aglets are those little plastic things at the end of shoestrings that keep them from unraveling and he was removing them because... well, truthfully, I don't really know why. Something about a sinister purpose and safety issues."

"And you let this man _into_ your _room_?"

"I didn't _let_ him in, he broke in!"

"See, that's what I'm talking about, Ollie! Did you at least report this?"

"Report what? We all know the guy's a little wacky but his motives were completely harmless!"

"'A little wacky'?" Dinah leaned forward – Oliver took a short half-second to admire the picture she was presenting him with – and cocked a blond eyebrow. "The guy's a sociopathic nutjob!"

Oliver was surprised to feel a sudden flash of annoyance, sitting up straighter in his seat and dropping the fry he had been nibbling on. "Despite what the rumors flying around this space station might say, Dinah, I think calling him a 'sociopath' is taking things a bit too far."

Perhaps in response to the note of defensiveness that had crept into Oliver's voice, Dinah straightened as well, shoulders thrown back. At her very core, Black Canary was a fighter, and Oliver easily recognized the proud tilt her chin had adopted. "Oh, so you're defending him now?"

Oliver's mouth dropped open a bit. "Well, yes, what's so wrong- I don't... What is _wrong_ with you today?"

The moment those words left his mouth, he knew it was the exact wrong thing to say.

Dinah's blue eyes flared with emotion, and she was gorgeous. "What's wrong with _me?_ _I'm_ not the one letting a known crackpot free reign to all my personal stuff!" She stood then, tall and proud and Oliver couldn't help but follow her with his eyes. "And you, Oliver Queen, need to get your head out of your ass and start paying attention to what's really important!" With that, she turned sharply on one heel, and walked away.

Oliver scrambled to his feet. "Dinah-!" An arm was raised to reached feebly for Black Canary's retreating back. "Pretty Bird, wait!"

Silence descended over the mess hall as the door slid shut over the blond woman's shapely form. Oliver let his arm drop limply to his side. Two tables over, Kara Kent a.k.a. Supergirl and Courtney Whitmore a.k.a. Stargirl stared on with wide eyes.

"I think I'm missing something important." Oliver told the empty air where Dinah had just been sitting.

Kara nodded minutely back in response.


	4. Kansas Breakin

**_Kansas Breakin_**

_Rating: T  
__Disclaimer: __copywrite__, DC  
Notes: I haven't written anything quite so descriptive and wordy in a long time. Hope it came out okay._

"Me and Dinah had a fight about you."

"Oh?"

Grass crunched under the thick soles of Green Arrow's boots as he paced, eight steps one direction, eight steps back. The night sky was cloudy, with a half-moon descending towards the horizon. Wind whistled through the empty plain to Arrow's left (or right, depending on which direction he was currently pacing) and ruffled the leaves of the lonely little copse of trees over their heads.

"I told her about the aglets, she called you crazy, I said you weren't that bad, then she called me an asshole and left."

Arrow glanced at the Question as he paced. The suited man was sitting crosslegged in the dirt, back to a tree with a small laptop computer balanced on his knees. The soft light from the LCD screen lit up his featureless face, casting back the shadows born from the brim of his fedora, and creating deeper ones in the hollows of his cheeks, eye sockets and nose. Backdropped behind all that, hundreds of feet away and further down a gentle slope, was a large compound of buildings, brightly lit and heavily fenced.

"Huhm." The steady clicking of keys didn't slow for even a second.

Arrow narrowed his eyes, turning to pace his eight steps in the other direction. "Then we went to your room on the Watchtower and had mad, passionate sex on your bed."

_Click-click-click_ went the little keyboard without pause.

"Dinah is pregnant with my child. Twins, actually."

_Click-click-click..._

"We're going to name one Rush and the other Limbaugh."

"Quiet, please. Trying to work."

Arrow fell silent, but not before letting out a quiet, self-satisfied 'hah'. The green-clad archer continued his pacing for a minute longer, before boredom forced him to break the monotony. "So how many years will this be worth?"

Question cocked his head to the side, stopping to perhaps read something on the screen before him. "Legality is questionable, but is Batman sanctioned."

"Oh, good. I'll make sure to tell that to the cops when we get arrested for trespassing."

Question snorted in almost laughter. "If this place is what I think it is, they wouldn't bother alerting local authorities unless otherwise forced. Guards won't be looking to arrest, they'll be looking to kill. Less complicated that way, with not as many questions."

"Gee Question, you sure do know how to instill confidence into a guy." Arrow finally stopped his pacing, absently fingering the taunt string of the bow thrown over his shoulder. "You almost done with that?"

"Almost." The gloved fingers flew nimbly across the keyboard once more. "Security on their network is quite advanced, so I 'acquired' a laptop from an employee that already has access to on-site wireless."

"'Acquired'?" Arrow smirked faintly, finding himself strangely blasé with the thought of civilian theft, if the one doing the thieving was Question.

"Arthur Blake, age 39. Born in Dayton, Ohio. Father of two, ages eight and eleven. Divorced. Shouldn't report laptop missing until approximately seven hours from now."

"And how do you know that?"

"Blake lives alone, in suburban home far from neighbors. Left Blake tied to chair bolted to floor. Cut phone lines. Disposed of cellphones. Shouldn't be found until children dropped off by mother in the morning."

Arrow wasn't quite so blasé about civilian assault. "Question!"

Question's blank face rose to meet Green Arrow's aghast expression. "I didn't harm Blake, Arrow, and I'll tip the local police anonymously if he is not found by ten in the morning."

Arrow hesitated, still feeling uncomfortable and faintly disturbed. Luckily, he was distracted from any further moral quandaries by the sudden triumphant noise Question grunted from the back of his throat.

"Done. Once I had a foothold into the metaphorical door, it was laughably easy to sneak into their security system. I've just finished disabling locks and alarms along the path to offices we need and set cameras to loop indefinitely. Though in twenty minutes, the system will recycle, and they'll know something up." He rose to his feet, stuffing the laptop into a bag as he did so. Once the bag's strap was settled comfortably over a shoulder and across his chest, Question took off down the hill towards the compound, veering off slightly to the left.

Arrow sighed, and jogged a couple of feet to catch up. "Remind me again why I'm here instead of Huntress? Hasn't she become your usual bodyguard for these kinds of things?"

"Since she's no longer a member of the Justice League, her modes of transportation have become quite limited. She couldn't get off of work long enough to drive to Kansas and back."

"Huh. I've gotten entirely too complacent with instant teleportation."

Question nodded in agreement, and both Leaguers fell silent as they closed in on the last hundred yards to the compound's tall outer fence. They ducked in close to a section of fencing made relatively blind to the area where the scheduled guard was suppose to be patrolling by a largish storage shed about ten yards inside the compound grounds.

Arrow tensed as Question reached out to absently test the fence for electrical current, other hand busy digging through a large trenchcoat pocket for a pair of tin snips. When the faceless man wasn't instantly fried to a crisp, Arrow let out a relieved sigh, absurdly glad they had managed to cut off the electricity to the correct portion of fencing.

The tin snips made quick work at creating a makeshift entrance, and both men slipped inside soundlessly, darting those ten yards to huddle at a corner of the storage shed. Question stared at his watch, and after about a minute of patient waiting, signaled to Green Arrow. The blond haired archer immediately leaned out around the corner, impact arrow nocked and at the ready, just in time to see the patrolling guard's back disappear around a building corner. Arrow wasted no time in sprinting freely across the open courtyard to the nearby two story building, knowing that the cameras he could see mounted high on walls around him had been rendered useless for now. The barely audible sound of flapping trenchcoat tail was the only sign that Question was following right behind him.

Green Arrow took up guard position beside a glass windowed entranceway, glancing back to make sure Question had made it across safely. Question ghosted past him, footsteps strangely nonexistent, and pulled out yet another item from his pockets – this time a plastic keycard Arrow could only assume was also a 'gift' from the unfortunate Mr. Blake. A swipe later, and the door clicked open, Question holding it open as Arrow swiftly entered, loaded bow pointed downward and three fingers curled around the string and the arrow nocked there.

The hallway they entered in was mercifully empty, the building quiet except for the omnipresent sound of climate control. The ceiling lights were on in the hallway, but dimmed in respect to the late time, with all the rooms branching off the hall appearing to be dark.

Green Arrow nodded once, in a sign of readiness, and Question took the lead, Arrow close on his heels.

The hallway lead to another, set at a sharp ninety degree angle, along with a catercornered door. This door they took, and up the stairwell to the second floor, which looked much like the first. Question headed right, down three doors, and into the first door on the left.

It appeared to be a normal office from what Arrow could see in the meager light provided from the hall, with nothing spectacular jumping out at him, but Question headed straight for the sizable wooden desk and the computer upon it. While the computer booted up, Question reached inside the laptop bag at his side and pulled out what appeared to be a decent sized portable hard drive. After that, Arrow quit paying much attention.

While Question did his thing (Green Arrow could access the internet and check his e-mail, but that was about as far as his computer knowledge extended), Arrow finally released the tension from his drawing arm, removing the unused arrow and returning it to the quiver on his back. He closed the office door until it almost latched, waiting until his eyes had adjusted to the near darkness, then started to explore the room more throughly.

It didn't take him long to realize there was absolutely nothing of interest along the walls and in the various drawers, except for a slightly humorous motivational picture dealing with a train and a cliff. He wandered back over to the desk, planted a hip on a corner, and started exploring the brickabrack strewn about the desk top.

Arrow was in the process of trying to decide if the teenager in a framed family photo was actually male or female, when the door swung open. A beam of light cut across Arrow's startled form, and a man stood clearly outlined in the doorway.

In less then a second, Green Arrow had an impact arrow loaded, nocked, and drawn, with the nonlethal but still highly painful end pointed dead center and ready to do business.


	5. Kansas Breakin II

_**Kansas Breakin II**_

_Rating: K  
Disclaimer: copyright, DC  
__Notes: Lame cliffhangers are lame. I think I need to quit picking on Ollie so much. But he's just so cute when I do and I just want to pinch his adorable Leftist cheeks. And I bet you thought I was actually bring _plot_ into this. No way! That would ruin everything._

The man, who's figure was so perfectly and so stupidly outlined by the backlighting from the hallway, had a broom in hand, looking confused and startled and a whole lot like a janitor.

"Mr. Sanchez."

The man – the janitor? - jerked his stare away from the threatening end of Green Arrow's bow, and visibly blanched. Arrow could sympathize; Question's blank face tended to cause that reaction in people, even more so when it was half-shrouded in shadows.

"Not suppose to be here." Question's voice was bland with a hint of mild reproach, fingers resting lightly and stilled on the keyboard in front of him.

The janitor's eyes flicked briefly over to Green Arrow, before settling back on Question. He had apparently decided that despite the faceless man's lack of visible weapon and the very solid wooden desk between them acting as a barrier, Question was still the greater threat. Or at the least, more scary. Arrow wasn't sure if he should be insulted or not.

"I-" The janitor stuttered hesitantly. "I switched shifts with Larry."

"Didn't inform your supervisor." This was not a question, said once again with a touch of admonishment.

"No, I-"

"Huhm." Question drummed his fingers once – a series of four short taps that caused the janitor to flinch – then turned to face the monitor in a surprisingly effective dismissive motion. "Well, Arrow? Going to shoot?"

Arrow started, lowering the bow he just realized he had been aiming this whole time. "What? No! I'm not going to shoot some random janitor! It's not like he's going to attack us."

The janitor nodded frantically in agreement.

"May not attack us but will certainly alert those who will."

"Yeah, but..."

The janitor stared helplessly. Arrow stared helplessly back... and thought he might have heard a faint snort coming from the direction of his current partner-in-crime.

"Alright," Arrow sighed. "Get in here. And make sure to bring your cart... thing with you."

The janitor took a hesitant step backwards, as if afraid any movement on his part would result in an arrow through something important. When Arrow made no moves to skewer him from across the room, the janitor scurried just outside the doorway, returning in half a second dragging a wheeled pushcart ladened with cleaning supplies and a large trashcan behind him.

Arrow strode towards the door. The janitor simultaneously scuttled backwards into a corner, as far from both Justice Leaguers as he possibly could get. His cart's little wheels squeaked as they drifted to a halt.

Beneath his mask, Arrow arched an eyebrow, slowly pushing the door closed until it latched. The room was plunged into barely lit darkness once more.

Silence, except for the persistent clicking of keyboard keys, joined now by the steady crunch of a thinking portable hard drive.

"...So," Arrow crossed his arms, leaning back against the now closed door. "Sanchez, was it?"

The whites of the man's eyes were bright against the dark. "It's, uh, it's Daniel Sanchez. Sir. I know Daniel isn't very, um, isn't..." Trailing off, he finished with a rather lame, "My dad was hispanic."

"Ah. I see." The archer's mustache twitched. No, he _didn't_ see, but exchanging pleasantries with someone he was technically holding hostage wasn't something he had a lot of experience with. "And- Would you quite flinching?" Daniel – My Father Was Hispanic – Sanchez flinched. Green Arrow gritted his teeth. "I'm not going to hurt you!"

The janitor's eyes seemed to flicker, involuntary, off to the side in the general direction of a certain faceless man.

"And neither is he! Are you, Question?" Phrased like a question, but the tone certainly didn't leave any room to be one.

"Hum?" Distracted, indifferent, and something that came very close to apathy. "No, of course not."

Oh, _that_ had been reassuring. "Question-"

"Congratulations, Mr. Sanchez, you've just received an irreversible ten percent raise on your monthly salary as of yesterday morning." Question stood as he spoke, stashing the hard drive in his laptop satchel. The rolling chair was neatly tucked back under the desk. The computer powered down and left the room in sudden, jarring quiet and darkness.

Two pairs of eyes stared at the man without a face, one exasperated and the other confused.

"What? I don't- A raise?"

The Question made his way over to Green Arrow as the archer opened the office door once more, standing next to, but not quite within, the revealed beam of light. Beside his fellow League member's proud broad shouldered and almost instinctively confident stance, he looked distinctly rumpled and bedraggled. "A raise. Yes. Hope we never have to speak of this again, Mr. Sanchez."

"I- what?"

Question nodded, and exited out the doorway in a flare of worn trenchcoat.

Sighing, Arrow gave a parting apologetic glance to the cart-fortified corner before following in the other man's wake.

It wasn't until they had safely backtracked out of the compound and returned to the relative safety of the copse of trees with a respectable whole three minutes left on their twenty minute time limit, that Arrow dared to speak again. "That was... surprisingly anticlimactic."

"Huhm..."

"You do this a lot?"

A casual, one shoulder shrug. The faceless man seemed much more interested in digging through his many pockets.

Arrow's gloved hand drifted up to the comlink in his ear. Hesitated, then asked, "What'd we just get from that place, anyway?"

"The connection between Star Labs and Cadmus. If I'm right." His search went from the left pockets to the right. "Should finally be able to use the data gained to follow the paper trail left behind."

"Left behind? From what..." Arrow trailed off, hand falling back down to his side. "Supergirl."

Question made a faintly pleased noise.

"I _still _can't believe Professor Hamilton could have possibly done that to Kara. But..." Arrow swept his hat off his head and used his free hand to run his fingers through his thick, blonde hair. "You bribed that janitor, didn't you?"

"Perhaps."

"And then threatened him into silence... You wouldn't _actually_ go have a 'talk' with him if he spoke up, would you?"

"Wouldn't I?"

A pause, then- "No, you wouldn't."

A noncommittal noise this time. Question stopped his searching, but left his hands in their habitual default position within his trenchcoat pockets. "Do you have your comlink? Seem to have misplaced mine."

"...You're a really difficult guy to be around, sometimes."

"Am I?"

"Yes, you are."

"Ah."

Arrow rolled his eyes, and touched a fingertip to his ear. "Watchtower- two to beam up."

"..._scotty_..." Question muttered, with an accompanying amused grunt that sounded like it had aspirations of one day growing up and becoming a _real_ laugh.

Green Arrow felt an involuntary grin creeping onto his face as their molecules scrambled and faded away.


	6. You Confuse and Annoy Me

_**You Confuse and Annoy Me**_

_Rating: K+  
Disclaimer: Copyright, DC  
Notes: Whereupon which Ollie gets to rant about people's right and Question gets philosophical. Also – Q and poker is made of win and adorableness. Blame O'Neil's 90s Question comic run._

The Question watched silently as Oliver Queen pace about his cluttered room. He was sitting cross legged, hatless, and coat-less on the rumpled bed that Oliver had previously thought to have existed merely for aesthetic purposes, looking distractingly human. Oliver had prepared himself to have this confrontation with the standoffish personality he had gotten to know over the past few months, not some person who apparently had a hole in his left sock.

It was that hole that was throwing off Oliver's game. He had barged into the faceless detective's Watchtower quarters (Why such a paranoid man kept his room unlocked most of the time, Oliver had yet to figure out.), fully prepared to have it out with the other man, only to be blindsided by the sight of big toe peeking out of a holey sock. The sudden reminded that the Question just _might_ be more then what the rumors made him out to be was like a slap in the face of Oliver's righteous anger.

So now Oliver found himself pacing, while Question stifled what sounded suspiciously like a yawn. "Queen?"

Damnit, he even _sounded_ tired. Oliver was pissed that the Question could so easily dissolve the snit he had worked himself into by simply acting vaguely normal for once. It just wasn't _fair._

He stopped pacing abruptly, taking a few steps to face Question's seated form. Question tilted his head back as the archer inadvertently loomed. "Have you been spying on Dinah?"

"Yes."

A short, almost involuntary bark of laughter. "I don't even know _why_ I was hoping you were going to say no." Oliver was surprised he was even surprised, and surprised at the bitter disappointment he thought he had properly shielded himself from. But once he got started, his natural (and perhaps slightly overbearing) tendency to preach carried him forward with increasing momentum, and he found himself pacing once more.

"You follow people around, go through their personal life like its anything _but_ personal, and for what? Why would you even _do_ that? What reason could you possible have-" Oliver stopped, in mid-pace and mid-sentence, and swiped a hand through the air in a harsh, angry gesture. "No, don't answer that. You know what, I don't even want to know. And you want to know why? Because I _trust_ her. _Trust_. You know. That thing shared between two people who like and respect one another. Do you even know how to trust, Question?"

Question shifted, sheets rustling, faceless mask cocked just slightly off-center from the blonde man's penetrating green gaze. "I... trust you to act true to your nature."

"My nature?" Oliver took those couple of steps necessary to loom once more. "My _nature_? What does that even mean?"

"You are who you are, Oliver Queen, and all your actions are in direct reaction to this. Your surroundings may change, what you view as reality may change, but you will always respond to what you currently believe to be fact with the core that makes Oliver Queen, Oliver Queen. This, I trust."

"And what if you're wrong about 'my nature'?"

Oliver was close enough to hear the breathe Question took. "...Humanity lies. Sometime inadvertently, and not always with ill-intent. But no one will ever tell you the complete truth. To know what is true-"

"You stalk people? Go through their trash? Hack their bank accounts?" Oliver punctuated each sentence with a swift poke of his index finger to the center of Question's partially unbuttoned shirt. "Scare the shit out of them while they're trying to _sleep_?"

Question flinched away from the physical contact. "Have to know what I'm seeing is real, Green Arrow."

Almost imperceptibly, Oliver's finger wavered in mid-air.

"I... _have_ to know. Important."

"Yeah, well..." Oliver took a step backwards. Question leaned forward once more, regaining the ground he had lost. "It doesn't give you the _right_. It doesn't make you _exempt._ Society has _rules, _you know. People have rights, and you think you can go around stepping all over those rights whenever you feel like it because you're a little shaky on reality? That doesn't fly, mister. People get arrested for that shit."

Question didn't respond, but then again Oliver wasn't really expecting him to. The blank stare he was receiving only seemed to confirm what he was pretty sure they both already knew – Oliver was saying these words only for his own benefit. This viewpoint, this way of life was too embedded, too much a part of what made the Question who he was, to be swayed by a simple impassioned speech on Oliver's part.

"Aaaand, you don't care. Not one bit." Oliver sighed, planting his hands on his hips in the way that could simultaneously annoyed Dinah and make her smile. "How about this. Could you at least promise to quit spying on Dinah?"

The blonde took another step back, carefully taking in the whole that Question was currently presenting him with. Despite his previous talk about the apparent in-born need for humanity to lie, the Question was surprisingly honest. He was a master at answering in riddles, or straight out avoiding the question all together, but when asked boldly directly to his face, the answer one received was always based in truth.

Question tilted his head slightly to the side, and downward. His hands, which oddly enough were still covered by a well-worn set of gloves, clasped around a fold in his wrinkled pant leg in a gesture that could have been interpreted as subdued fidgeting.

"_Damn_." Oliver laughed without humor. "You and I are going to have some problems, then." He shook his head, took a step to his left, aborted the gesture with a strangled half-huff, took three steps to his right, then threw himself down on the bed with a release of frustrated air.

Question bounced only slightly with the transference of motion through the stiff mattress.

"I'm really angry with you at the moment."

"Understandable."

"Seriously. I think I might want to punch you right in your stupid lack of face."

"Wouldn't be the first person."

"Somehow, I don't doubt that."

"Huhm."

Oliver stared at the wall, hands dangling between his knees. Question wiggled his visible big toe.

"I should be more angry at you then what I am." Oliver stated this as simple fact, and not something up for debate. "But all I can think about right now is what the computer told me when I asked it about your whereabouts. It said you were in your room, and hadn't left it for three days." He turned just enough to make out Question's unruly mop of black hair out of the corner of his eye. "Why are you sleeping in the Watchtower, Question?"

For a long moment, it seemed like the other man wasn't going to respond, then- "Avoiding my landlady."

Oliver blinked. Opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"Rent is due. Been busy with Cadmus. Haven't had the time to find a poker game to obtain this month's rent money."

"I'm... at a loss for words to even fully explain the confusion I'm feeling right now. So I think I'm going to leave and just tell Dinah that she's right in her assumption that your a sociopath and that she has my blessing to kick your ass the next time she sees you on or in her property." And so he did, on both accounts. And Question went back to the first batch of sleep he had remembered to take after a two day marathon of hacking.

Later that day, Oliver had an interesting argument with Dinah, wherein he agreed with everything she said yet still got yelled at. It left him feeling slightly guilty and a bit like a hypocrite for not feeling nearly as indignant on her behalf as his girlfriend thought he should be.


	7. Stakeout

_**Stakeout**_

_Rating: K+  
__Disclaimer: Copyright, DC  
__Notes: Whereupon which Ollie almost thinks the 'f' word in reference to Q, and Q is mildly surprised to have the 'f' word associated with his person. Also: only one more chapter left, people. Let's hope it doesn't take me another fifty-million years.  


* * *

_

"Thanks, by the way."

"Huhm?"

"For the whole... Dinah thing."

The Question grunted.

There was no animosity coming from the faceless vigilante sitting in Oliver Queen's car passenger seat, as Oliver had been half-dreading. The other half of him, the half that remembered big toes and strange, off-color jokes during the month-long period since Oliver had done everything to completely severe the burgeoning ties between them except have the decency to come right out and say it. The half that had twinged with something like regret fueled by confusion when he had read the note attached to the small package left at his home address (_discrepancies in her bank account_) filled with papers (_unidentified man with unhealthy obsession_) and photographs

(_STALKER_)

that had burned a protective rage into him that hadn't been quelled until the disgusting man had been securely behind bars and away from Black Canary. His Pretty Bird...

The half of him that had instantly known who the anonymously supplied package had come from, _where_ the Question had gotten his information, _why_ he had done the things he had done to Dinah. The half of him that wasn't simply angry at the Question for not just coming to them and _telling _them, but was instead worried about the man's lack of psychological and social connection.

_That_ half of him _hoped_ for animosity, perhaps even a stilted tirade on assumptions and inattentiveness. Anything but weary resignation. The expectancy of Oliver's reactions to Question's own actions (_you're insane_, he had said, and had meant it) and the quiet acceptances that had followed.

_That_- that had been so much worse.

Oliver raised his thermos to his lips, then abruptly halted the half-formed motion when he remembered the coffee within it had gone cold quite a while ago. He set the thing down on the small patch of seat between his legs, wrapping his hands around its smooth, metallic surface, and continued not staring at the Question. Green Arrow was on a stakeout, after all, one that involved catching a nasty group of drug suppliers selling their wares to an equally nasty group of drug pushers that liked to give cocaine to school children, which was much more important then trying to discern the emotional state of the faceless and mostly still man he almost considered a fr-

"I specifically asked for you to be assigned on this mission with me." Oliver watched the distant and poorly lit warehouse through the windshield of his deliberately nondescript sedan, trying to ignore the vague reflection on the glass cast by Question from the passenger seat.

"I know."

"I want to say thank you."

"Huhm. Already did, Green Arrow."

"I know. I know I did."

Oliver tried to take another drink of coffee, scowled, set it back down, tapping out a quiet rhythm on its plastic cap. The reflection of the Question tilted its head minutely to the side. Oliver dragged his eyes away from the movement, feeling the presence beside him like a train wreck beacon. "Look. I just figured you should know I mean it. That I'm-"

"Sorry?"

Oliver stilled his fingers and silence reigned within the confines of the car. Across the night washed Star City street and down a ways, the warehouse stood, lifeless and stagnant under yellow streetlamps. The green-clad archer nodded once, slowly. "...Yes."

"Ah." Question's voice was pleasantly bland. "Self gratification?"

"What?" Oliver snapped his head to the side, green eyes narrowed under his mask. The Question continued to watch the warehouse ahead. "No-"

"Perhaps apologizing to alleviate guilt?"

"No, I-"

At the far end of the street, lights appeared, twin beams that cut across the drab scenery. The car did not slow as it past the warehouse, past them and the row of abandoned vehicles they were parked amongst, past the distant traffic light that flashed red in a distant intersection, and swallowed up by the city beyond.

The car was gone. The hollowed indents where Question's eyes should have been were observing Oliver with the same infinite patience he had previously been observing their warehouse, asking his question again with his silent stare. Seeking and settling for nothing less then the truth.

Oliver met that invisible stare with his own sense of pride. "...Yes."

"Ah."

There is was again. That acceptance. Oliver hated it. No one should have to- "And no."

The dark head cocked to the side, an inquisitive gesture Oliver had grown familiar with during the time since he had started to let such familiarities happen. "Don't enjoy being lied to, Green Arrow."

"I'm not lying. I'm not. I'll admit that some part of me is doing this to make myself feel better, so that I can tell myself that I did my part. But... Look, you're crazy, but you're not _crazy_. Not really. You just think differently than most people. And, and, that's not really so bad." Oliver took a deep breath. The Question seemed frozen in his stillness. "What I think I'm saying is, ultimately the pluses outweigh the minuses."

Oliver waited. Finally-

"...I appreciate your vote of confidence in my mental stability."

The blonde smiled slightly under the curl of his goatee, hesitant and weak. "Yeah, but I'm not sure you'd pass in this democratic society."

A snort was torn from the Question's throat, half-strangled and fueled by unexpected mirth. The sound seemed to startle both the car's occupants. After a moment, Oliver smile softened, strengthened, shoulders molding back into the cloth of the driver's seat with the lose of tension he hadn't realized existed until it was gone.. The mouth of his thermos touched his lips.

"Damnit!" Oliver spat out the cold sludge that use to be coffee, glaring at the traitorous thermos in his hand.

The Question shifted with the rustle of layered fabrics, twisting his trenchcoated form between the two front seats towards the back one, gloved hand latching onto the handle of the insulated cooler on the back passenger floorboard. Inside the cooler, nestle between two heated packs, was a matching thermos to the one that was on the receiving end of Green Arrow's death glare. Question presented the cooler, and the prize inside, with the air of someone who thought someone else was simply being ridiculous.

Oliver regarded the new thermos, a touch sheepish. "I... was trying to save that for later. I only brought two, you know!"

"Yes, I can see how much use the first one is currently providing you."

"Ha ha. How cute. Sarcasm." Despite the flippancy, the archer still plucked the new thermos from its warm confines without further complaint, discarding the old with a careless toss over his seat's headrest. "And another thing! I really would prefer if you didn't argue against your own self worth."

Question released a noise that might have been an 'urk', hands curling about the side of the now closed cooler, shoulders curling inward as he settled down in his own seat. "...Huntress has told me similar things."

"Huntress is a smart lady."

"Also something she has told me, and quite frequently."

Oliver laughed then, full and proper, eyes drifting back to the yellow lights and broken windows and signs of human corruption. At his side, the Question began to hum.


End file.
